ARC PROSE POEM ANTHOLOGY 2021, Prose Poems By Dr Pragya Suman
Updated: May 21
(1 ) Vincent and Autumn Landscape
Autumn is at the door of Vincent and it seems his brush is running in a red river. Red dunes of Mars are heaped up in the horoscope of Vincent and in a fiery mood he would do an adultery. Three tiny crows are wheeling in an ill omen and Vincent wants to hide in the purple sky. Soon his brush bursting in grumpy grease would unmask him as the sky is getting in pale patches and white wees in segmentation.
An artist sleeps in strike off a matchbox and when he nudges fire lit up in the willows of three dimensions. The burnt bushes are going to make swindling trees into coagulated coal as Vincent and stoic’s scandal are twinning at the edges of red relics of pristine paint. One day his brush would engulf Vincent the lecherous.
That day Violet Vincent would get bleached in white !
( 2 ) Red Poppies of Vincent
Auvers is red and red, as red poppies are seekers of infinite sleep and petals are still in closed fist. A master stroke of impressionist splutters the infinite cerulean sky. One day petals would kiss a painter's brush.
When Vincent fingers tighten, poppie's petals look lax.
Look, green yews are gazing, the revelation is standing at the door !
( 3 ) My Father's Wristwatch
A white wrist watch was left alive in my father's ash urn.I wrapped it in my tiny hand. I grew up vertical and the watch also became a rounded one, in a wall clock. Nowadays it hangs on the wall beside my father's portrait. I am stuck for a minute, moving round in.
One day two shooting stars dropped upon it, and the wall clock fell down on the floor.
My tiny wrist broke down in a mangled minute of stick. My mother told me not to fix, otherwise my fingers would break also.
Stick of hour has gone thousand times round though my minutes are stagnant still. My mother lives in my broken minute stick.
I am still trying to fix it with my mother's knife!
Copyright@Dr pragya suman
The Whispering Language in Pragya Suman Poetry By Anwer Ghani
We have always been dazzled by the beauty of poetry, but since the advent of the prose poem, poetry has become another concept, and language has become more powerful and manifested in clearer forms, and has become the focus of beauty, and the center of creativity.
The prose poem has lavished upon us wonderful worlds of beautiful language, and it is only necessary to focus, contemplate and taste unique in order to see all that magic in the language of prose poetry.
I have dealt realistically with beautiful forms of the language of prose poetry, some of which were insurmountable. By following the language written by the Indian poetess Pragya Suman, I always felt that she was whispering in her rhetoric and words. And this whisper takes many forms and images. It is nice to follow those pictures and forms to see this enrichment in this beautiful color and unique language.
The whispered language appears in Pragya's poetry in many different ways; Some of them depend on words, some of them depend on the meanings, and some of them depend on pictures.
The whispered language is manifested in images that do not tend to sharpness, and many aspects of it are deferred, and the revelation reaches the recipient through reverberations and jolts far from indoctrination, with whisper words and subtle meanings. Every follower of Pragya finds this evident in her writings. We find this clear in a smooth stanza in which she says:
" Autumn is at the door of Vincent and it seems his brush is running in a red river. Red dunes of Mars are heaped up in the horoscope of Vincent and in a fiery mood he would do an adultery."
This highly poetic section contains a group of stylistic elements of the whispered language, but the most prominent of them is the pictorial whisper: " Autumn is at the door of Vincent/ his brush is running in a red river / Red dunes of Mars are / in a fiery mood he would do an adultery.") This pictorial collection presents a soft and whispering revelation and conveys the idea and the goal to the recipient not through a loud voice and indoctrination, but rather with whispering and quietly inspired, intellectual, and pictorial. It is clear that the poem and other poems focus on a central figure, Vincent, and the symbolic sign in this figure is also whispered. The poetic whisper is a form of expressive symbolism through sentences and images, not through metaphors, and this is a major leap in the concept of poetry that is not accessible only by expressive writing in the prose poem.
In another form, the way in it is the transparent and sensitive thing that proves its state in action and existence and not by direct description, so she says:
" Auvers is red and red, as red poppies are seekers of infinite sleep and petals are still in closed fist. A master stroke of impressionist splutters the infinite cerulean sky. One day petals would kiss a painter's brush."
This form of colored infinity and this is a form of existence that transcends life, eternity and color, it can only be ethereal and subtle, it consists of this in a whispered statement that conveys the idea and purpose to the recipient through this colored representation with a painter's brush.
Notice how this painting was filled with whispering letters, and how the expression in it reached its extent in a colored panel that despite the loudness of the revelation in it, the objects of the picture do not appear except as expressive entities in the painting. Despite the depth of the revelation, it has a gentle expression and a whispering, charming expression.
It is clear that the Pragya's language is unique, with clear terms, meanings and structures that have created a special world for it, and a distinct space based on whispering and gentle Revelation.
Note : Dr Anwer Ghani is author from Iraq. He is doctor by profession.